Sons of Venom
by Zaphyr Stone
Summary: The whole of Lylat is in the midst of recovering from the Aparoid threat when a deadly group of Venomian terrorists escapes from prison. Starfox is sent to re-capture them, but to do that, they must enlist the aid of a former member.


**Author's Note: Sapphire here! Again! XD Once again, time for a new fanfic ;3 Let's see how far I get on this one. I'm very proud of it, and I have everything planned out for a change. It's just a matter of staying motivated and wording my ideas out properly XD**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Starfox. The only thing I own is my OC Zeke and other OCs to come.**

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><p>Shadows<p>

The shades were drawn, and all was quiet except for the soft and minute ticking of an old and battered analog alarm clock. The cheep white veneered blinds were interlocked as tightly as their mechanism allowed, thin golden lines barring the shuttered windows. The Cornerian apartment was in shambles, furniture in disarray, at least a week's worth of laundry strewn about the place. It would have been assumed to be ransacked were it not for the Border collie man sitting in bed in the single bedroom tucked away in the back corner of the apartment.

Zeke wore nothing but a pair of faded blue-and-white boxers, black and white fur mussed. He sat in bed, blankets and bed sheets cast away from him, propped up against the bare metal wall, knees drawn up with arms wrapped securely around a thick pillow. His round brown eyes stared at nothing in particular, his tired gaze seeming to move past the walls of his apartment and far beyond any sense of matter. The ticking of the clock echoed in his pricked ears, synching up with the beating of his heart.

His ears twitched with every tick, eyes darting around in the dim gloom as if expecting something to pop out. These days were hard to get through, especially with the most recent Aparoid threat. In the beginning no one slept, too afraid that maybe, just maybe, there would be survivors of the hoard. They had decimated their once pristine city, and the people were broken. Zeke had seen plenty of horrors in the past and was no stranger to fear and pain, but mornings like these proved even he had been so deeply affected by this near-apocalypse.

The alarm clock suddenly sprang to life with such a boisterous chirping ring that, without thinking first, the Border collie, after promptly jumping out of his fur, slammed his hand down on the clock and flung it across the room into the opposite wall, ceasing its incessant chiming. He sighed irritably. That poor clock was a constant victim of his neuroses. He knew eventually it would break, and he would have to buy a new one, something he did not have the funds for.

Money had been tight for the whole of Lylat, it seemed, after the war. Most of the funds and budget had all gone towards the reformation of the planets, Corneria in particular, so there wouldn't be much "luxury spending" quite some time, as if there was anywhere good to shop at right now that wasn't either totaled or under heavy construction. Zeke contributed to this reform like a model citizen of Corneria, being a mechanic repairing and refining machines varying from construction vehicles to AC units. The clock lying like a battered pet in a heap on the ground reminded him of that, and with a small sigh, he got up and donned his bland attire of dull grey-browns, the only thing of significant notice being a light brown fur collar on his open jacket. He quickly straightened out and smoothed down his tousled fur, and walked out into the kitchen for a meager and half-hearted breakfast of dry cereal before heading out.

The streets of Corneria had looked better, but they had also looked worse. Rubble piles weren't as tall as they used to be, and buildings were looking less like skeletons every day. Like Zeke, most people walked nowadays. One could still drive, but the roads, the highways in particular, were still under heavy construction, and traffic was still be redirected to the point that walking was just easier and less stressful. He considered himself lucky to live within walking distance of his workplace anyhow.

Zeke turned the corner of a nameless road and up to a small office building, inside a few other canines stood around chatting before their shift started. The Border collie man walked in silently and clocked in on an old battered touch screen monitor. He didn't pay much attention to the conversation as he grabbed his tools and gear.

"Ain't that right, Zeke?"

"I'm sorry?" he looked up at a hefty black lab wearing a smirk.

"Mac was saying how this war has done the most damage to us yet, but I say the Venomian war did more. Don't you agree?"

Zeke felt uncomfortable with this turn of subject, but mostly with the look his colleague was giving him. He shrugged passively. "I suppose so."

The lab didn't look pleased with this answer. "You suppose?" he laughed, "Come on, I know you had to have seen your fair share of the damage here when that took place."

Zeke's blood was running cold. Why did he have to push this? What was the point? "I wasn't here when the assault took place."

"Oh that's right; you weren't." his smirk turned into a wide grin that made the others turn their attention to the pair with tense curiosity.

"Is there a point to this?" he gritted his teeth.

"Is there? You tell me, traitor."

"Hey, come on, Bernie." A red husky stepped in, "Knock it off."

"I know who you are, 'Zeke', everyone does." Bernie continued, growing more and more vicious, "Ezekiel Godfrey, the wiz kid of the Sons of Venom."

Something in Zeke snapped. He felt like he'd been punched in the nose, and a rage had suddenly overcome him. He mindlessly lunged at his colleague, took him to the ground, and threw down blow after blow with a loud roar.

He lost all sense of reason or reality, for that matter. A blind rage masked all else, and all he saw was hate. Hate for that name, hate for that group, and hate for the man who dared call him that when he had no clue what he was talking about.

By the time he was pulled off the battered man and properly contained, he was starting to come down from his sort outburst, blood dripping from his knuckles, the canine man's face and muzzle bleeding and swollen. The blood was still pounding in his ears as he sat, catching his breath, the others watching him deeply unnerved while the husky spoke into his cell phone frantically. A strange silence feel over the place as the others turned their attention to Bernie. Zeke made no effort to run or escape. There was no point. He would go civilly.

A half an hour later, sirens died down outside the door. He remained complacent as he was cuffed and stowed away in a black and white hover vehicle, a few officers taking statements before driving away with him in custody.

He closed his eyes in tired frustration.

_Why? Why_ _is that my alias? Why will no one understand that isn't me? It never was._

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><p><strong>Author's Note: I know this is very confusing right now, but it will all clear up, I promise XDDD I would greatly appreciate any feedback you have to give ^w^ Thank you for reading!<strong>


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